


counting all the stars

by aizensosuke



Series: the dreamers and the lovers [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aizensosuke/pseuds/aizensosuke
Summary: ulquiorra is a puzzle. the bigger picture is not always a pretty one.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Yammy Llargo and Ulquiorra Cifer lock gazes, it is far from any typical meet-cute that a couple might describe to their children a few decades down the line.

Minutes before they arrive finds Yammy pinned to the ground with his skull beneath the boot of a hunter, the end of a rifle pressed against his muzzle and promising a painful not-quite end if he tries to fight back. Not that he can; the tranquilizer was surprisingly efficient on someone his size, his limbs too exhausted to move, his muscles protesting any shift in position while his mind feels lazy and shut-off from the world around it. It’s only when one of the hunters plucks the offending dart out of his hind leg that he realizes that caused this at all and has to admit that the hunters are getting better.

Their fighting prowess is still a far cry away, though, if they needed to knock him out at all in order to take him down. And why use a tranquilizer? They could have just shot him with silver. In the end, it would have been a similar effect if they used enough bullets.

“This is the one.” The hunter with the rifle prods his muzzle with it, the iron clinking painfully against his teeth. “He’s big enough. Heavy enough. What are orders?”

“Boss wants him brought in so we can experiment.” The words make Yammy pause, his eye flicking lazily toward the man standing on his head, keeping it pressed into the grass. “The tranq succeeding at all was just a guess. We can get more valuable numbers if he’s alive.”

The third hunter— the one carrying the tranquilizer gun, he realizes— brings the weapon up to his face, kisses the metal. “Told you I’d never miss such a clear shot.”

It feels strange to be pinned to the ground and spoken of as a trophy while he is still  _ alive _ but every attempt he makes at moving does nothing but twitch his limbs. Frustration eats at him. Being taken down so easily would be more respectable if he was just dead because hunters can be clever when they need to be and it had been a risk to come into the clearing in the first place. It would have been fine to die to the raging burn of silver, the poison eating away at his flesh as it was pumped through his veins to burn through his heart. This feels terrible. It makes him want to get up and fight just to prove that.

“Where we’d park the truck?” The second hunter asks. “I’m not carrying this mutt back down this hill. Maybe we can just roll it. Think they’d care if it was a little muddy?”

The hunter standing on his head clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Just drive the truck up. It can handle the range and the trees aren’t too close together up there.”

The third hunter props the butt of his gun against the ground, leaning down, prodding at Yammy’s head as he does. “He’s not going to get up and give us any trouble. We’ll stay here just in case if you want us to. I’ll just hit him again if he tries to get back up.”

“Suit yourselves.” The second hunter takes his gun away from Yammy’s muzzle, straps it back to his back and starts off into the trees. “Keep an eye on it for me.”

Yammy is downwind, tranquilized, and pinned beneath two hunters who could dispatch his life at any second. He contributes this as being the reason why he never heard sensed anyone coming until the white-robed Aizen Sosuke stepped into the clearing.

“Sirs?” The voice is low and smooth and Yammy can only move his eye to see what appears to be a man standing at the edge of the clearing, wearing a white kimono. “I thought I heard noise. What… Is that a werewolf you’ve captured? Are you both safe?”

The hunter standing on Yammy’s head tenses; he can feel it when the foot on his head presses down harder a moment before the man relaxes. “We’re safe,” he says, raising a hand, beckoning. “You can step further into the clearing. It’s safe.”

“No reason to be afraid,” the other hunter agrees. “Would you like a close-up? He’s knocked most of the way out so it’s not like he’s going to hurt you.”

The man steps further into the clearing, his footsteps soft on the long grass, and Yammy realizes he is barefoot, studying him carefully. The white kimono is too thin during this time of the year; early spring is when the air is still cold, but the man does appear to be otherwise human. His scent is… Yammy twitches his nose again, uncertain if he’s processing it correctly or if the tranquilizer has affected his brain as well, his ability to pick up scent, catalogue it, and figure out where and what the source was.

“What are you doing out here so late?” The first hunter asks. “Camping nearby?”

“Just up into the trees there.” The man turns and points, and the second hunter nods, leaning his head closer to speak to his fellow. Yammy can hear him, still.

“Our initial sweep did reveal an encampment up there, so it would fall in line with that,” he says, and Yammy snorts because he isn’t surprised the hunters had been so careful. It’s so  _ easy _ to kill a human, after all. Hunters are just human at their core. He raises his voice to address the man walking toward them. “I reassure you the woods are safe now. There are no other packless wolves in the area. We’ve done a clean sweep of it.”

The man laughs softly, presses a hand to his chest. “That’s a relief. It saves us some of the effort of having to go looking ourselves. Did you know it’s very difficult to approach a wolf with no pack? They see you as an enemy whether you are or not.”

“Excuse me?” The hunter steps off of Yammy’s head finally. “What do you—”

“Gin,” the man says. The man with no scent, the man who does not feel the chill in the air, who is comfortable walking barefoot through the woods. “Tousen. Please dispatch them.”

The black wolf bursts from the very shadows themselves, large jaws snapping shut on the first hunter’s arm, twisting as he bears him down to the ground amidst his own screams. The whirl of silver that takes down the hunter with the tranquilizer gun is different, not large enough, too much fur, too many  _ tails. _ Yammy grunts and tries to stand, but the tranquilizer keeps him down and he finds himself just waiting to see what happens next.

Another voice calls out from behind him before he hears the sound of something be dragged. “Got the third one, Aizen-sama, just like you asked me to.”

“Thank you, Nnoitra. That was very helpful.” The man— Aizen— stretches out his hand toward the silver creature and it finally takes a solid and true shape, tails flowing behind it as it walks up to Aizen, presses its head against the palm of his hand, and Aizen pets down its back. “Szayel, I believe they used a tranquilizer on our comrade here.”

“Very interesting.” A man with rose-colored hair appears at the edge of the clearing, stepping into it fearlessly, with another dark-haired man trailing just behind him. “I’m sure it matches the chemical components that I’ve been studying. Sorry to test this on you, but I need a guinea pig, and it’s not like you can do anything just laid out like that.”

The man— Szayel, he must be, based on Aizen’s words— walks around Yammy and extracts what looks like a needle from a bag at his hip. He kneels without preamble and Yammy feels the prick in his leg a few moments before it feels like  _ something _ cuts through the haze in his mind. He manages to push himself up to his feet lazily, giving his head a slow shake as he looks up at Aizen still standing in front of him. He can see him well enough now to realize there is someone just behind him, half out of sight who steps forward in one smooth motion, putting himself between Yammy and Aizen without a word.

“Ulquiorra.” Aizen drops a hand onto the man’s shoulder. “This is not necessary.”

“With all due respect, Aizen-sama, you acquiesced to my position as your guard, and therefore it is my decision on what is necessary.” Ulquiorra’s eyes snap to Yammy’s and he realizes they are impossibly green, almost glowing against the frighteningly white skin of Ulquiorra’s face. Massive and  _ beautiful _ . “If he is a threat, it is my job to defend you.”

Yammy inhales deeply and confirms what he already knew to be true before he stood. Aizen has no scent, but he knows this is not natural and assumes it must be chemical, a guard against the hunters to make them assume he must be human after all. Not all hunters have learned anything about scent enough to do much with it, but he must have reason for taking the precaution. In contrast, the man in front of him is no man at all. Yammy knows what an omega smells like, and wisteria is a dead giveaway.

Alphas don’t smell like flowers, after all. Would explain why Yammy’s head is level with Ulquiorra’s despite the fact Ulquiorra is in human form. He’s  _ short. _

“You will not harm my pack alpha,” Ulquiorra says, and Yammy raises an eyebrow at him, at the subtle command in his voice. “The only reason you are alive is because we saw fit to save you and killed those who would have captured you. I hope you realize that.”

The third dead hunter drops to the ground and Yammy tilts his head to see an incredibly tall man stalking around the group to throw an arm around Szayel’s shoulders. Nnoitra, it must be. “Transform back, ya fucking idiot. We can’t talk if you’re like that. Well,  _ we _ can but we can’t get a fucking answer out of you beyond a yes or a no.”

Yammy snorts at him but reaches for the human form buried beneath his fur; he always transforms back with one knee on the ground and stands to his full height. Ulquiorra has to tilt his chin to look up at him and blinks once. There is no surprise in his gaze.

“He is as tall as you are, Nnoitra,” Ulquiorra says. “I suspected as much when I saw how tall he was on four legs. What is your name, and what is your status?”

_ All business, huh? _ “Yammy Llargo. I ain’t got a pack. Who the hell are you? I know there’s a nomad pack in the area, but you sure as shit aren’t the omega who leads it.”

This last comment is thrown over Ulquiorra’s head at Aizen, who merely smiles placidly up at him. “I am Aizen Sosuke. I am not the omega who leads the nomad pack, that much is correct. I am the omega who leads  _ this  _ pack, and we have come to offer you an opportunity to align yourself with us in our effort to kill all of the hunters in this area.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Yammy demands. “There’s an entire fucking  _ squad _ of them between the packs that live around here. There’s gotta be at least eighty of ‘em alone. You aren’t gonna be able to shut that down without a hell of a lot of fighters.”

Aizen’s smile adopts an unusual edge. “Who said I did not have capable fighters? I am more than willing to allow you to meet the others if you would like to.”

“Ya got me on your side, too.” The silver fox  _ flows _ into the shape of a man, slender and with a frightening smile on his face as he comes to stand next to Aizen, wrapping his arms around Aizen’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “A kitsune can do a lot more damage than you’d expect. Ya didn’t even see us coming, did you? You couldn’t.”

“Hush, Gin.” Aizen stretches a hand up, presses his fingers to Gin’s lips. “We are positioned not far from this location, which is how we knew you were nearby. It has taken quite a lot of time to find as many as I have, but I assure you, our force is quite adept.”

“What makes you think—” And he makes the mistake of taking a step forward, which is the exact moment when Ulquiorra moves him from  _ possible ally _ to  _ potential threat. _

Omegas are fast. They tend to have speed over alphas most of the time as a result of being smaller and more compact, though Yammy knows how much bullshit that can be depending on the omega in question. Ulquiorra is fast but also  _ strong _ . He has his hand around one of Yammy’s wrists before Yammy processes the contact, twisting his arm behind his back, moving in a slow and fluid motion to stand behind him, using the pain to force him down to his knees. A knee in his back knocks him onto his chest and he finds himself pinned to the grass once more, spitting dirt out of his mouth with Ulquiorra’s delicate weight perched on top of him. What the  _ fuck? _

“Do not advance on Aizen-sama, Yammy,” Ulquiorra murmurs, his voice low and soft in his throat, and Yammy hates to admit it, he does, but there’s something about Ulquiorra sitting on his back, dispatching him so easily, that’s… Interesting.

“Sorry, Ulquiorra.” He doesn’t try to spit the words out, or make it a condescending remark, and the weight on his back pauses before it vanishes.

When he gets to his feet, Ulquiorra has returned to his place in front of Aizen, looking perfectly unruffled despite the fact he had just taken down an alpha much physically larger than him. Yammy can’t help the thrill of intrigue at the thought and wonders if Aizen makes it a point to gather as many deadly and dangerous omegas as possible. Now  _ that _ as a real draw to it alone; Yammy’s never liked playing protector for anyone. He likes people who can take care of themselves in a pack setting or not.

Aizen looks amused with the entire thing. “Ulquiorra is quite defensive, as you can see. I would be wary of your body language around him. Would you like to meet the others?”

“The others as tough as you?” Yammy asks Ulquiorra directly, noticing the minute way he tilts his head, lips parting just slightly as if the question has thrown him. “I ain’t interested in fighting alongside anyone who can’t protect themself in the first place.”

To this, Ulquiorra only blinks. “I reassure you that our pack is composed of nothing but those able to keep their backs safe in a fight. You are not expected to protect anyone. But to answer your question? No. There is no one in this pack as dangerous as me.”

Yammy said  _ tough; _ Ulquiorra says  _ dangerous. _ The juxtaposition has his breath catching for just a second and then he grins, unable to help himself. “I guess I’ll meet the rest of you.”

“A good decision, I would think.” Aizen turns his back on them, Gin molding himself against Aizen’s side as if the two of them are a single being split apart only by the seams of their skin. “You may follow me. We are not far from here. The hunters’ sweep of the nearby forest did not account for the fact that Gin’s magic is relatively unknown to them.”

Yammy falls in step only when Ulquiorra turns around, not letting the smaller omega get too far away from him. “No one’s ever gotten the jump on me like that before.”

“The hunters did just moments ago from my understanding,” Ulquiorra says, and Yammy whistles because  _ damn. _ “I was bred to be strong and dangerous, and I serve that purpose quite well. Should you fall in line and join our pack, you would be greatly advantaged in a fight. We do not protect each other, but the more dangerous fighters you have on your side, the more likely you are to win in a short amount of time.”

Nnoitra barks laughter and Yammy realizes he’s still walking with his arm around Szayel’s shoulders. “Ain’t that the truth. If it was a long battle, they wouldn’t be able to keep up with us. We’d have them taken out so damned fast. Would almost be a waste of resources.”

“Once you run out of bullets, that’s it,” the dark-haired man next to Szayel agrees.

“It will be a relatively painless battle on our part should we finally have enough members.” This comes from a man Yammy did not notice but realizes it was the black-furred wolf from before— Tousen, by Aizen’s words, then. He steps ahead of Ulquiorra to walk at Aizen’s side, a hand moving to the small of his back, pressing into the curve of it. Is he Aizen’s alpha? “But we want an army large enough to make it effortless.”

Ulquiorra nods his head once. “This is our philosophy. The word  _ pack _ is inaccurate, but it is suitable to our group. Do you hear anything that you disagree with?”

“Not fucking really.” There isn’t much  _ to _ disagree with, all things considered. “Why do you care about hunting ‘em all down, though? Last I checked, the packs don’t care unless they mobilize and attack themselves. What changed your minds?”

Aizen stops walking; Ulquiorra almost runs into his back and Yammy lightly bumps against him as a result. “Kuchiki Byakuya is a fool. If he wants to wait until a threat is fatal to handle it, then he can deal with the ramifications. I prefer to deal with the problem more directly. If you agree with this philosophy, then follow me. I will not lead you astray.”

“We’ll see,” Yammy says as pleasantly as he can. “Let’s see this pack of yours.”


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, when Yammy sees their pack, he agrees to stay. Annoyingly, he never quite stops trailing after Ulquiorra. The constant presence is irritating when Ulquiorra does not need nor want company, but when Yammy accompanies him on the seventh consecutive hunt, Ulquiorra realizes that… Perhaps, it is nice to have occasional company.

His wolf form feels natural flowing over his skin and when he stops at the edge of a stream, he changes back to his human form to wipe the blood from his skin. Though he does  _ not _ need charity, Yammy had taken down their prey for the night and Ulquiorra let him, deciding it was better for Yammy to expend his strength so Ulquiorra could learn how strong he was. He should conserve his own to better protect Aizen.

Kneeling at the edge of the stream, washing the blood from his hands, he is aware of Yammy’s approach before the alpha speaks to him. “Y’know, I figured you were quiet a long time ago and I wasn’t taking it personally, but now I’m thinking you don’t like me.”

Ulquiorra snorts as he scrubs beneath his nails. “It is of no matter to me one way or another. You’re just… You. I do not like or dislike you, in that sense.”

“You said weird shit like that and I keep telling myself I’ll get it one day, but I dunno. It’s been over a month now.” Yammy sits down on the edge of the stream, watching him, and Ulquiorra wonders if Yammy is appraising him— No. No alpha ever has; even without the knowledge of his upbringing, there is something about him that is off-putting. “So, what made you decide to follow Aizen? Kinda just been asking around about reasons.”

“I am aware. Gin informed me of this three days ago.” Ulquiorra steps further into the stream, lowering his body into the cool water, wiping the blood from his forearms.

Yammy makes a noise in the back of this throat. “So? What made you decide?”

“Aizen-sama saved me.” Ulquiorra looks at him from beneath his lashes. “From the hunters. I told you that I was bred to be a fighter. Do you recall that?”

“Of course I do. Ain’t gonna forget about that, not when it came out sounding so badass.” At this, Ulquiorra winces. Had it, then? “Wait, were you seriously bred? I knew some humans were fucking around with that, but I didn’t think they’d ever  _ done _ it.”

Ulquiorra lowers his eyes to the stream, not sure what to say. This was the moment when most of the new wolves who trailed after him shied away from him, too horrified at what he was, at what he represented, to want to be anywhere near him. “I was not raised by normal humans or a wolf pack. I was bred by hunters, the hunters who live beneath this land. They killed my mother and my father upon my birth and raised me from a pup. Until Aizen-sama saved me from that fate, I had spent only a year or so in my human skin.”

Yammy is silent for a moment, and Ulquiorra anticipates the moment when he gets up and walks away. He never takes it personally. He  _ scares _ people. “What the  _ fuck? _ ” Yammy asks instead, and Ulquiorra looks up at him silently. “They kept you in wolf skin? How?”

“Punishment. I could not change back without being punished as I was under surveillance on a nearly constant basis.” He still remembers the bite of silver chains against his flesh, the constant sting. The scars would have been permanent, but Gin’s healing touch had healed his flesh and left him whole. On the outside, at least. Inside…

There was nothing inside of him, of that Ulquiorra was certain. Not  _ truly, _ anyway.

“Those fuckers.” Yammy gropes in the shadows and Ulquiorra watches him pick up a stone, winding his arm back and flinging the rock as hard as he seemingly can. A distant snap tells Ulquiorra that it broke a branch. “That’s fucking sick. I can’t believe they’d do that.”

Ulquiorra licks his teeth, raises cupped palms filled with water to his lips and drinks. “I am the proof that they would do such a thing. You can rest assured in that.”

“I don’t wanna. God, Ulquiorra…” Yammy shakes his head, the quality of his voice changing in a way Ulquiorra isn’t sure that he understands. “And Aizen saved you from that?”

“Yes. I was brought out to hunt him, Gin, and Tousen down when they began picking off members of the group.” Ulquiorra still remembers how weak his limbs had been, trembling. He was malnourished, abused and beaten, barely able to think. “It did not work, as you well know. Instead, Aizen-sama attacked and killed the hunter who had me chained. He took me away from them, and he and Gin removed the chains. I would not have been able to regain my human form without his assistance. I was almost completely a wolf.”

Silence once more. Ulquiorra watches as Yammy heaves himself off of the edge of the bank and kneels in the stream, washing the blood from his own skin. Though Ulquiorra knows, intellectually, that alphas being larger and more muscular is common, he also knows that trends do not account for outliers and as such, there will always be those who do not fit within their prescribed notions. But Yammy is not an outlier. Rather, he is a startling example of what an alpha could be, tall and broad and muscular, and Ulquiorra has seen how quickly he can dispatch prey when they hunt together. It’s awe-inspiring.

“If this is disquieting to you, I would suggest that you decrease the amount of time you spend in my presence,” Ulquiorra says, rising to his feet. “Because I am not—”

He does not get to finish speaking before a hand roughly catches him by the wrist, pulling him back down into the water. His reaction time is  _ just _ slower than Yammy’s own and he’s caught before he can twist himself around to break the fall, his body held aloft so easily by Yammy’s  _ hands _ alone that Ulquiorra twitches at the realization.

Slowly, Yammy lowers him back into the water. “What the fuck makes you think I care?”

“Do you not?” Ulquiorra narrows his eyes at him. “By this point in time, you would have realized that I do not behave like an ordinary omega, nor an ordinary—”

“And?” Yammy demands, and Ulquiorra falls quiet as he stares at him. “I don’t give a fucking shit, Ulquiorra. You’re you. You’re a badass fighter and hunter. You really think I’m gonna ditch you because of something you can’t even control? Ain’t gonna happen.”

Again, Ulquiorra’s eyes narrow. “This is a typical reaction. I do not understand.”

“Maybe. I dunno. Ain’t exactly typical, am I? Don’t answer that.” Yammy sighs, runs a hand through the water and then splashes Ulquiorra with it. “I don’t get it. It fucking sucks and I don’t understand what it was like. But you survived it, which is what matters. And you’re fighting back against the people who hurt you, which is tough. So you’re all good to me.”

_ What standard of quality do you have for omegas? _ Ulquiorra wonders but does not ask. “I see. So you will not stop following me around incessantly, then?”

“I’m trying to be your  _ friend, _ ” Yammy says, and Ulquiorra frowns at that, his brows drawing together at the notion. “Like Nnoitra and Szayel? Friends? Or like Grimmjow and Nnoitra sometimes, I guess, but Nnoitra seems to  _ really _ hate Nel, so—”

“Did I ever express the need or desire for a friend?” Ulquiorra demands.

“I’m starting to get why people fucked off on you.” Yammy drags a hand down his face and Ulquiorra thinks  _ ah, now he is going to leave. _ But again, Yammy does not. “You never said you needed a friend, you got me. Maybe you don’t want one. Totally fine with me. But I like you. Your skill, your smart mouth, the fact you don’t take any bullshit. Hell, the stoic thing is even pretty cool. It makes you different. Makes me wanna get to know more.”

_ More? _ Ulquiorra rests his chin on one of his knees, staring down into the water. Is there more? He has not had time to think about it. He was satisfied enough to grasp the edges of life he was able to gain here, to return to his human form, convinced that perhaps his human mind was nearly gone and that he was salvaging what he could from the wreckage, but… He also has not tried. When it came right down to it, he focused on Aizen’s protection and safety, tried to make himself useful with the skill set he had. What would happen if they defeated the hunters and then led a normal life?

What if Ulquiorra was no longer capable of such a thing? He was unusual. Damaged.

Yammy stands, and he casts an impressive shadow, cloaking Ulquiorra in darkness. “I get it. You’re not gonna tell me outright, right? So let me spend time with you and get to know you. I’m not trying to just shove my knot in you, got it? It’s a little bit more than that.”

More than that? Ulquiorra stands as well, giving himself a little shake, stretching his hands up toward his hair to ring the excess water from it. “I suppose I can humor that. As long as you do not attempt to force me during my heats, I see no reason why not.”

“Anyone else ever done that?” Yammy asks him in an unfriendly tone that suggests he would follow up requesting names if Ulquiorra gave him an affirmative answer.

“No. Aizen-sama was very firm in making sure I understood that my body is my own and that no one is allowed to touch it without my explicit consent.” Such a thing was alien to him,  _ consent.  _ His body was never his own until Aizen, but now, Ulquiorra cherishes it and protects himself just as fiercely as he protects Aizen. “It is made clear to all alphas who join our pack that they are not allowed to touch any omega without consent.”

This seems to please Yammy, who nods, stretching out a hand to rest on top of Ulquiorra’s head. Such a condescending gesture should infuriate him, but something about it seems oddly… Calming. “Good. The least you can be spared after living a life as fucking awful as that. Wanna head back to the pack now? It’s starting to get late.”

Ulquiorra nods and they resume their wolf forms to return to where their pack are resting for the night. They never stay in one place for very long just in case, and he knows Aizen has his sights set on the underground facility the hunters are living within— Only after asking Ulquiorra if he would be comfortable sleeping there. Of course, this does not bother him. He may have some unpleasant memories attached to the locale, but he wants the shelter for the coming winter. Punishment often found him chained outside when the temperature was at its most bitter, a lesson to remind him to behave.

Aizen is waiting for them when they return and kneels when Ulquiorra approaches him, stroking a hand down his neck. The gesture feels tender and loving, though Ulquiorra could be wrong. His experience with most things is limited. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Tilting his head, Ulquiorra licks gently at Aizen’s forearm to assure him that he did.

Remaining in wolf form for long stretches of time especially during the night is how they stay safe from the elements, their coats well-suited for the outdoors. Nnoitra, Szayel, and Aaron are already asleep for the night, leaning against each other in a warm pile of fur. Halibel and Nelliel are lying with their noses touching, Halibel’s small pack not far from them. Apacci raises her head in greeting and Ulquiorra pauses to touch their noses together, a silent reassurance that all is well and he is fine.

Though he has no alpha of his own, he is fond of the way Apacci looks after him.

He finds a soft spot of grass to lie down upon not far from a tree and Yammy joins him, transforming back into his human form to lean his back against the trunk. Ulquiorra huffs softly but says nothing, resting his head on his paws, unconcerned for the most part if Yammy chooses to sleep like this or not. It’s when Yammy reaches into the trunk that Ulquiorra realizes he must have tucked his fur away there.

Most alphas tend to keep souvenirs when they fight, and Yammy is no different, though Ulquiorra wonders at the length and texture of fur so similar to his own.

“Supposed to get kinda cold tonight,” Yammy tells him, and Ulquiorra just placidly blinks up at him. “So here, take this. It’ll keep you warm. I’m fine with the cold.”

The fur is settled on top of him, tucked inward near his legs and paws with a swathe of it left loose for him to tuck his nose into. If he could frown in this form, he would. It seems like an immediate reaction to want to refuse this, to remind Yammy that he will likely need it himself, but Ulquiorra pauses, considering his scent. It reminds him of how it smells after it rains, and he currently smells… Stronger, certainly, but also satisfied.

If this is an alpha thing, Ulquiorra will let it go for now. Besides, the fur is warm enough that he feels safer like this, covered from sight. Yammy pets a hand down the bridge of his nose and Ulquiorra huffs softly, his eyes fluttering shut. It does feel nice…

“Sosuke’s gonna be turning in for the night.” The voice is Gin’s, and Ulquiorra cracks an eyelid open to see him perched in front of them, though he never heard them coming. “Say, Ulquiorra, that’s a pretty nice fur. Where’d you get it from?”

“Me,” Yammy says simply. “Supposed to get cold, and I wanted him to stay warm.”

Gin tilts his head, and Ulquiorra sees a telltale flash of blue as he smiles at Yammy. “Is that so? Taking care of our little dear Ulquiorra, how kind of you. Never known an alpha to be naturally nurturing like that outside of Kaname, but he’s a rare exception.”

“It’s not shit to make sure someone’s warm. Christ.” Yammy lifts his chin. “‘Sides, gotta prove to you all that I’m worth it, right? I ain’t stupid. If Aizen-sama thought I was dangerous or too much of a hassle to keep me around, he’d toss me to make sure he could take care of the rest of you. Speaking of, how long you know him? I got a question?”

“How long have I known Sosuke?” Gin props his chin up on the center of his palm, slender fingers curling up against his face. “Ever since I was a pup. What do you wanna know?”

“Aizen said something about a man named Kuchiki Byakuya,” Yammy starts.

Gin cuts him off. “Byakuya’s the omega who leads the pack down south. Was our pack before we went into exile to start our own. He and Sosuke didn’t get along when it came to their ideas of what to do about the hunters. Byakuya’s a real peace lover, that one.”

Yammy snorts. “Ain’t surprised to hear that. Did you go into exile before or after you saved Ulquiorra? He already told me what happened with him and the hunters.”

Ulquiorra lifts his head from his paws slowly, tilting his head to look at Yammy more directly as he tries to assess why the man would care about such a thing. After all, he already chose to join their pack, so he must have long since decided that Aizen was a capable alpha who knew what he was doing. Ulquiorra knew that from the very beginning, of course, but it took the others more time to warm up to him and learn to understand him, his values and the way he ran the pack before they truly trusted him as their pack alpha.

“Ah.” Gin smiles thinly at him. “After. Sosuke hadn’t really decided on a true course of action, but you could say one was picked out for him nice and neat just like that. Kaname had already decided to follow him, whatever he chose. Me, well, you get that, I think.”

Yammy tilts his head back until it thumps into the trunk. “That’s what I thought. Whatever you want out of me to make sure these fuckers go down, you got it. I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll pass on such favorable information to Sosuke.” Gin leans forward, pats Ulquiorra on the head. “Get some sleep. Can’t protect our alpha if you’re sleepy-eyed, ne? Looks like you’ll be nice and snuggly warm tonight, so it should be easy for you.”

Ulquiorra lowers his head back to his paws and Gin walks back to where Aizen and Tousen are already curled together, flowing into his fox form as if it was as simple for him as breathing. With one eye, he looks at Yammy. He sits in his human form for a while longer but finally gives in to his wolf form, lying next to Ulquiorra, but putting enough space between them as if he thinks Ulquiorra might be crowded otherwise.  _ Foolish. Tonight will be cold. Even Szayel has admitted to defeat and allowed himself to be close to others. _

He picks himself up on his feet, the fur hanging over him, and lies down next to Yammy properly. The bulk of his form is already warm and Ulquiorra presses into that heat, certain he will be able to easily sleep through the night with as comfortable as he is.

Yammy tilts his head, licks him on the muzzle, and Ulquiorra returns the gesture, a silent thank you for looking after him even if he never asked for it.

And distantly, he wonders why it mattered when Aizen chose exile from the Kuchiki pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone agreed these would be better in chronological order, so i put them in that format!
> 
> also i think now you get why aizen made the choice he did. it's not always so simple.


	3. Chapter 3

As it turns out, Aizen Sosuke was brutally honest when he said their goal as a pack was to kill as many hunters as they could get their jaws into. By the end of Yammy’s second month with the pack, a dozen hunters have fallen by their jaws. He kills two of them himself and watches in awe as Ulquiorra takes down one with more fluid grace than any wolf Yammy has ever seen, reminding himself that Ulquiorra’s wolf shape feels more his own than his human shape. He licks his small black paws clean of blood and smacks Yammy in the nose with his tail when he catches him staring, though not unkindly.

For lack of anything better to do, Yammy organizes a hunting party out of the members of the pack who like to hunt, excluding Nnoitra who refuses to run with anyone but himself and, on rare occasion, Szayel. He makes no attempt to lead them himself but it kind of happens and Aizen seems none too worried about it, so Yammy goes with it.

For the most part, Ulquiorra does not stray far from Aizen’s side as often as he can afford not to, always hovering nearby to make sure Aizen is safe. It takes a lot to budge him from his place, but he usually detaches himself to come hunting with the rest of them as long as Gin or Tousen promise to watch over Aizen for him. The evenings when Ulquiorra comes with them tend to be the evenings that even those who don’t particularly  _ like _ to hunt will get up and come along. Yammy thinks they might be interested in Ulquiorra.

It is one such evening that the two of them end up running together. It happens from time to time, usually when Ulquiorra picks up an interesting scent and then pauses to see if Yammy has any intention of following him. Though omegas are known for having excellent senses of smell, Ulquiorra’s is keener still than any omega Yammy has ever known, and he manages to locate prey farther off then he should be able to. Tonight, they end up chasing down a buck before Yammy gains enough on it to leap on its back, taking it down in a crunch of teeth digging into bone, weighing it down to the cool earth.

Ulquiorra pads up to him silently and Yammy slips off of their prey, spitting fur and hide out of his teeth and giving Ulquiorra the first choice of meat given he was the one who scented their prey in the first place. For such a small omega, he has a hell of an appetite when he’s been running, and Yammy growls low in his throat, satisfied as he drops down to the grass to wait. The only sound tonight are the chirps of crickets and far-off running, their pack still hunting while they rest. Over all of that, he can hear the wet tearing of meat and snapping of bone while Ulquiorra digs into the gut of their prey.

There could be worse things. All in all, this is a good way to spend the evening.

When Ulquiorra finishes, he lays down in the grass, small sides rising and falling with his breathing while he waits for Yammy to eat. Only after they’ve finished with their kill do they walk to the stream together, somewhat of a tradition, a rhythm that’s formed itself between the two of them. Ulquiorra is looking less slender these days, starting to properly bulk up in terms of both muscle and the softer curves an omega usually has.

“You are staring at me again.” And he catches Yammy looking, raising one dark brow at him as he cups water, raises it to his lips and washes the blood from his jaw. Some droplets roll down the pearly pale stretch of his throat. “This is the seventh time I have caught you."

“Keeping count, are we?” Yammy asks, pointedly ignoring the fact that he’s been caught  _ again, _ but it’s hard to be sly with someone who seems to exist to pick out all small sounds and movements, someone who sees himself as a true and necessary bodyguard.

Ulquiorra rolls his shoulders. “It’s hard not to notice. If you are considering my value as a mate, I can assure you that I am uninterested. I do not want a partner.”

“It’s always like that for you, isn’t it?” Yammy looks down at the stream beneath them, watching the clear water run murkier and pinker in places, never quite red. “Why does it gotta be like that, Ulquiorra? You assume the worst, or what’s the worst in your point of view since most people don’t assume romantic interest to be the worst possible thing.”

There is silence for a moment. “You did not discount my guess, Yammy.”

“So that really is how it is for you. Christ.  _ No, _ I’m not looking at you as a potential mate. I don’t  _ want _ one.” Yammy is almost disappointed that Ulquiorra can think so plainly.

Emerald eyes examine his face for a long moment before he inclines his head toward the trees behind them. “The others have made comments. I thought it wise to check the validity of those comments for myself. So, then, why do you stare so frequently?”

“Just nice to see you actually taking care of yourself for a change.” Briefly, Yammy wonders if any of the rest of Aizen’s pack have shown interest in Ulquiorra.

“Ah. Aizen-sama has made similar commentary recently. He was expressing concern in the fact that I do not often hunt with the others.” Ulquiorra looks down at his own hands quietly, tracing along the tendons in his forearms. “It is hard, sometimes, to remember to do that. It used to not be a concern of mine. I ate what I was given.”

Which was probably not enough and probably used as punishment more often than not which is not exactly what Yammy wants to think about right now when they were having a nice night. “Right, well, it’s just nice to see you bulking up. That’s normal.”

“I see. I apologize for being antagonistic toward you, then.” Ulquiorra sighs, tips his head back, and moonlight spills over his face, down his throat. He’s  _ beautiful. _ “I do not believe I am suited for such a life, living with a pack. I always seem to read things the wrong way. But I also believe that if I lived alone, I would often forget to do things like hunt.”

“I think it’s like that for a lot of us. Just trying to figure shit out.” Yammy shrugs, stretches out a hand and pats Ulquiorra on the shoulder, momentarily distracted by just how  _ small _ Ulquiorra really is, how Yammy’s hand swallows up his shoulder. “Just go at your own pace and you’ll do just fine. No one’s gonna penalize you for needing to take time.”

Ulquiorra looks at him. “Physical contact is common between packmates, is it not?”

“Yeah. What, that your way of saying you don’t mind if I touch you?” Yammy hums when Ulquiorra nods, stretching his arm a little farther, letting it rest across Ulquiorra’s shoulders. “Yeah, it’s normal. You seen how Nnoitra and Szayel are? It’s just, y’know, affection. Grimmjow’s the fucking  _ worst _ about wanting it, though.”

The corner of Ulquiorra’s mouth twitches. “Grimmjow is a weretiger, not a werewolf. That is probably why, at least that is what Nelliel said when I asked her about that.”

“Exactly. And he’s fucking awful.” When Ulquiorra chuckles softly, Yammy grins at him. “But yeah, you fucking… Want affection? That’s normal. No one’s gonna fault you for that. You think Aizen’s just  _ tolerating _ the way Gin hangs all over him? He enjoys it.”

“I believe he enjoys the attention because he and Gin are involved in a romantic relationship,” Ulquiorra says, and Yammy is  _ this close. _ “Nnoitra and Szayel makes sense to me, though. I used to believe the two of them were only biding their time to become true mates, but it has recently become clear to me that Nnoitra is uninterested in Szayel in such a way, and Szayel… Is uninterested in omegas in general.”

_ You’re finally starting to get it. _ “Exactly. There you go. Affection is natural among our kind. Maybe not necessarily this pack, but it ain’t exactly a normal pack, so there you go.”

This time, Ulquiorra looks up at him. “This is not a normal pack? By what standard?”

“Right. You weren’t in a pack before now, I guess being told and actually knowing are two different things.” Maybe Yammy can finally get through to him, get him to understand where he’s coming from. “Most packs are made up of people who grew up together. Friends, family friends, but like, everyone knows everyone. People can move in and out, but it’s a base community. Ain’t hard to ask someone you’ve known your whole life for a hug. This pack ain’t like that. Everyone’s loners or exiles. Strangers, in other words. Yeah, Halibel’s got her girls, and I guess Aizen and Tousen and Gin all knew each other, and Szayel and Yylfordt are brothers, but that’s… Basically it, far as I can remember.”

Ulquiorra studies the water, running his fingertips along the surface of it, creating small ripples that travel to the bank before dissipating. “So my understanding of how a pack should function is further complicated by the fact this pack does not function like most.”

“There’s something instinctual about it, I think,” Yammy says, giving his shoulders a squeeze, “but you grew up thinking something different, and now your instincts probably don’t gel with this. But yeah. It’s different. Maybe that’ll change, but not for right now.”

“I see. So…” Ulquiorra looks up at him, and there’s so much in those green eyes that Yammy doesn’t know what to say. “Will you show me, then, the normal and healthy way to be? Not what I am  _ meant _ to be, but a way to live that will enable my recovery?”

_ Jesus fucking Christ, do I look like I got all my shit together? _ Maybe he does, compared to Ulquiorra. “I’ll do my best to help you out, if I can. If you really want me to.”

“I do. Thank you.” Ulquiorra stands, rings water out of the ends of his hair. “Let’s go back.”

The first thing Yammy sees in the current clearing they’re residing in the shadows of are Tousen and Aizen. Occasionally he wonders about the two of them, just about as much as he wonders about Tousen and Gin; the blind alpha always seems just at the very distant edge of their coupling. Yammy had just convinced himself that Tousen and Aizen were using each other when it was time to go through their respective rut and heat, not that he could blame them. A set-up like that would probably have worked out pretty well.

But now he sees them together and wonders again. Tousen’s back is resting against the trunk of a tree, his arm folded around Aizen’s waist, holding their pack alpha’s back to his chest. It’s hard to see from this angle because Tousen’s braids are in the way but he’s almost certain that Aizen’s face is tucked against Tousen’s neck.

Gin, of course, is splayed across both of their laps like a living blanket, his arms wrapped around Aizen’s waist, his face tucked against Aizen’s belly. Just when Yammy thinks Aizen might be asleep, his hand shifts, fingers combing through Gin’s silver hair.

“Ulquiorra.” Aizen’s face appears from behind Tousen’s braids. He looks relaxed, eyes soft and warm. “We have decided to attack tomorrow evening. Will you be prepared?”

“Of course, Aizen-sama.” Ulquiorra bows his head once and Yammy just kind of waves in Aizen’s general direction to let him know that he’s fine with that, too.

Not that he asked, but well, it was probably a good idea to let him know just the same.

Nnoitra had returned from hunting on his own once more, stretched out on his stomach on the grass, all that black hair spilling like an oil slick around him. “Finally come back, lovebirds? Was starting to wonder where the two of you had gotten off to.”

“I believe that I have told you once before, Nnoitra, that we are not romantically involved.” Ulquiorra crouches down in front of him just the same. “Where is Szayel?”

That pale lavender eye narrows up at him. “The fuck am I supposed to know? He and Aaroniero got into a fight or some shit and he stalked off. He’ll be back by morning.”

Ulquiorra frowns down at him. “Why is it that the two of them are fighting? The last I took the time to pay attention, the three of you were friends. What is wrong?”

“Anyone ever told you the way you talk is fucking weird, Cifer?” Nnoitra pushes himself up onto his knees, shoving his hair back behind him, all tangled up with twigs and leaves. “I don’t fucking know what’s going on with them. They were fine and then they weren’t and then they were and now I don’t fucking know. I don’t get paid to know, do I?”

“Christ, man, what the fuck is your problem?” It comes out of nowhere really, and Nnoitra rolls his head back to give Yammy an unimpressed look for butting in.

As if sensing the mounting tension, Ulquiorra stands. “I did not imply you were getting paid to do anything, though if you are looking for the job, you are not advertising your wares very well. Perhaps you should reconsider that for the future, Nnoitra.”

Nnoitra snorts. “Nice one, Cifer. Get some sleep. We got hunters to kill tomorrow night.”

At this point, the fur Yammy brought with him might as well be Ulquiorra’s, which is well and good to him since carrying around a dead family member’s pelt was probably frowned upon by some people. Ulquiorra locates it and wraps it around himself as he sits on the ground, leaning heavily against Yammy’s side without asking. It’s not like it’s become a  _ habit _ or anything but maybe he has been letting Ulquiorra sleep on him. That’s  _ normal, _ though, he’s fucking seen Nnoitra letting Szayel lick his muzzle without kicking up a fuss, so.

“I have not been back to that place since Aizen-sama removed me from the ownership of those hunters,” Ulquiorra says, and  _ ownership _ makes Yammy wince even though that’s what it was. “It would be nice to pay them back for what they did to me.”

_ That sounds more like it. _ “You want us to hold ‘em down while you take them out? Because I’m up for that. You can just rip their throats out. We can even line them up.”

“Nnoitra would be very disagreeable if we took all of the killing aspect to reserve for one individual,” Ulquiorra muses, and Yammy snorts because it’s true. Nnoitra  _ loves _ to kill. “I would rather get it over with as quickly as possible. Gin said he can clean up the mess.”

“Amazing what the fox can do and what he can’t do. You’d think he could go in there and take them all out himself without needing the rest of us to help him,” Yammy muses.

Ulquiorra tilts his head. “I believe Aizen-sama would be concerned for his safety.”

That… Might have some bearing in reality, and when Yammy follows Ulquiorra’s line of sight, he can see Gin has pulled himself up, half-lying against Aizen, and that one of Tousen’s arms has snaked around his back to hold him in place. The three of them look comfortable like that and he wonders if they had been together before they left their old pack. Why Aizen hid his omega status in a pack with an omega as a pack alpha. If they had left people behind to do this or if they were able to leave without much concern.

Aizen keeps his secrets, and Yammy knows better than to try going after them.

He glances down at Ulquiorra and pauses as he considers his face. His expressions are hard to read because Ulquiorra’s eyes either say too much or nothing at all with very little room in between for anything even mildly normal. But Yammy wonders if the intensity with which he stares at the trio across the clearing has anything to do with his bodyguard duties.

Does he  _ get _ it? Or does having a loving mate stand as an anomaly to him, like everything else does? Yammy wonders but he knows better than to ask at this point.

Szayel does eventually return to the clearing and Nnoitra stretches out a long, spider-like limb to pat the grass next to him. Aaroniero returns as well, and Yammy is surprised to see him settling down with the two of them, but maybe he and Szayel worked out their issues with one another. Or maybe not and they’re just ignoring them for the time being.

Yammy stretches his arms, yawns, and then tucks an arm around Ulquiorra, letting him cuddle up as much as he wants to. “Well, g’night, Ulquiorra.”

“Good night, Yammy.” Ulquiorra slouches over further, then sighs softly, readjusts his body, and half-crawls into Yammy’s lap without another word.

For one endlessly long moment, Yammy is silent and still. Then he pets a hand through Ulquiorra’s hair and lets his eyes fall shut.  _ Don’t worry about it. Just do what you can for him so he can have something of a normal life when all is said and done. _

Ulquiorra will probably figure it out, smart as he is, and decide what he wants when they all settle down and don’t have to worry about sleeping outside or using fox magic. But for now, they just have to get through tomorrow night, settle into their new place, and maybe figure out what the fuck being a pack even  _ is _ to wolves like them.

Ulquiorra will be  _ fine _ , then. Yammy is sure of it. Still, he makes a mental note to bulldoze as many of those fuckers as he can reasonably get his hands on for putting Ulquiorra in a position like this to begin with.

Fair is fair, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's just gonna be a lot of death in the next chapter fair warning


	4. Chapter 4

There is tension in the air as Gin keeps them cloaked in darkness and shadow, preventing the guards just outside of the entrance to the cave from seeing them.

Ulquiorra is keyed up, to put it mildly. His skin itches. His muscles are tensed and he is certain that his scent has long since gone wrong to those around him. Just behind him, Yammy is surprisingly silent. Even Nnoitra is quiet, lips pulled back from his teeth, long fingers twisted into fists. The alphas are the most prepared for battle; Ulquiorra can smell the rich spice of their scents and it soothes something deep in his soul.

He has no time to wonder if this is natural or if something is further wrong with him.

Amongst their tension, Aizen is a picture of calm fortitude and strength, confidence rolling off of him in waves. Gin’s tails twitch and tremble and Tousen is as silent as always, one hand placed carefully in the smooth dip of Aizen’s back.

“Are we prepared?” Aizen’s voice is a low, soft murmur, quiet enough that only the excellent hearing of their kind could pick up the sound of it. “Nnoitra, if you would be so kind as to dispatch the guards at the mouth of the cave as quietly as possible—”

In the months they have known one another, Ulquiorra has seen Nnoitra hunt. He has seen him playful and he has seen him serious, and this is Nnoitra at his finest. All long, smooth movements, long limbs moving with purpose, his attention entirely focused on his prey. Gin reels back his shadowy protection at the last moment and Nnoitra lunges, long-fingered hands snatching the guards by the throat. His strength is inhuman, and Ulquiorra can hear the sounds of their windpipes crushed within his fists, the wet gurgling of blood.

They die almost silently, falling to the ground, bleeding from their lips. Nnoitra licks a stripe of crimson from one of his fingers and flashes them a smile. There is nothing kind in that expression of his, all sharp and moonlit angles. “As you asked, Aizen-sama.”

“Very good.” Aizen nods, and Gin drops their concealment entirely. “I will not ask that you protect one another, but I will demand that you do not get in one another’s way. Kill as many as you wish, as brutally as you wish, but our goal is to kill  _ all _ of them.”

“I’m staying out right,” Aaroniero says, cupping his elbow, stretching his bicep behind his head. “I’m catching anyone who gets out. Our scope says this is the only way in or out.”

Szayel looks at him. “You sure about that? They’re coming out armed. You’ll be alone.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Yylfordt claps Szayel on the shoulder, flashes him a grin. “You can always depend on me, right? So go in there and scare ‘em out for us to catch.”

“Don’t touch me, aniki.” Szayel slaps his arm away without hesitation. “Let’s go inside.”

The walkway is not a small space but with all of them filing inside slowly, the space is crowded enough for Ulquiorra to feel nervous. He walks just ahead of Aizen, determined to hold his position as Aizen’s guard until the very end. There is no one in this tunnel so late at night, but he expected as much. Most of the hunters remained in the structure itself and only guarded the entrance.  _ Foolish. You would have known about us by now. _

Ulquiorra holds his hands up for the others to stop, speaks while barely moving his lips so that only his pack can hear him. “They are armed at all times. Please remember that.”

“Of course, Ulquiorra,” Aizen murmurs. “Now, let’s make good on my promise to you.”

_ I swear I will rip out the heart of every man who ever laid his hands on you. _

Gin touches the wall with just the tips of his fingers, and the lights all go out.

Wolves do not by and large need their eyes to see, even in their human forms, and Ulquiorra had been taught specifically to deal with dark spaces. He hears the shouts and yelps of humans even as his pack slowly filters into the space, careful of their writhing and flailing bodies, not wanting to alert them until the last possible moment. They are all armed, as Ulquiorra expected, and the burn of silver is high in the air. It hurts his nose.

Aizen raises his hand high in the air for all of them to see, and drops it. Nnoitra cackles softly and launches himself at the closest hunter, sinking his human teeth into his throat.

Ulquiorra is not afraid. He promised he would not be a detriment and that bringing him this far would pay them high dividends even when Aizen was certain his fear would immobilize him. Now, though, he can seize revenge, and he does so with his own hands. His fingers close tight around the windpipe of a man he recognizes, one who once kicked him in the side so hard and so many times that multiple ribs snapped. Ulquiorra does not strangle him to death. His fingers dig into the skin until it breaks and gushes blood.

The pack moves fast. Some of them are moving beyond the common room, already well knowing the inside of this building as Ulquiorra mapped it out for them. Szayel disappears around a corner with Nnoitra not far behind him. Tousen and Gin disappear down different hallways while Aizen vanishes into the shadows. The common room is enough for Ulquiorra; he mows down the hunters here, listening to familiar sounds as he does. Grimmjow’s harsh and snarky laughter, Halibel’s low and calm voice, Nel’s much bubblier one as she catches one hunter by the arm and  _ yanks _ so hard the woman’s shoulder dislocates with a pop.

“Something’s fucking in here!” One of the hunters just manages this before Starrk turns and slash the front of his throat open, spilling hot blood all over the floor.

“You having fun?” Yammy calls out to him, one hand enough to crush a hunter’s skull. The wet  _ pop _ gives Ulquiorra pause, a sound he’s never heard before in his life.

He simply raises his chin and meets Yammy’s eyes. “I told you that I would.”

Alphas are known predators and incredible in the art of killing; Ulquiorra cannot help but watch some of them work as he himself takes down as many hunters as he can. Charlotte is all muscle as he brings down two at once and Findorr launches himself over the fray, laughing wildly as he does. Edrad pulls a hunter off of Grimmjow’s back in the half a second the hunter manages to land on it and punches him so hard in the face bones  _ shatter. _

The thrill of the hunt thrums hard in Ulquiorra’s throat, his nose filled with the scent of blood, of gore, of death. The undercurrent of satisfaction that thrums through him with every face he recognizes is foreign to him, but he seizes it gladly and clings to it.

Yammy never strays far from his side. Ulquiorra wants to say something to him about this, about the fact he does not need to be babied, to be looked after. Instead, he swallows the words down and reminds himself, over and over again,  _ this is normal. _ Caring about someone is normal. Wanting to keep an eye on them is normal. And Ulquiorra walked into this with more than one member of his pack worried over his reaction to returning to his place.

He hopes this is enough to keep them from worrying about him ever again.

A gunshot goes off, but no one falls. They keep fighting. There is blood in the air and staining his skin and Ulquiorra drinks all of it in gladly as more hunters file into the room.

There is a generator for when the electricity shuts off, but it only barely stutters before shutting off as well.  _ Thank you, Gin, _ Ulquiorra thinks, certain the fox must be behind it. Never quite knowing the reach of his powers, of what they can do, of what he is capable of as long as he tries. Maybe Gin himself is still learning what he is capable of.

All of them have so much to learn. Ulquiorra is not the only one in this case.

There are more gunshots. Some of the pack hiss, growl, snarl in pain but none of them stop fighting. Ulquiorra dodges all guns he sees, remembering the burn of silver chain against his skin, not keen on feeling that beneath it. When Szayel stumbles back into the room, one hand pressed against his ribcage, Ulquiorra stops and looks at them. Feels something in his stomach grow cold when he sees blood dripping from between Szayel’s fingers.

“Are you hurt?” He is there in an instant, peeling Szayel’s hand away from his side. A spreading diameter of blood stains his shirt. “Go outside. Yylfordt will watch over you.”

Szayel wheezes. “Aniki will never let me live this down. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“We will be just fine without you.” And then Ulquiorra sees the hunter just behind Szayel, well out of his line of sight, the gun raised in bleeding and trembling fingers.

_ I will not ask you that protect one another. _ Aizen’s words echo through his mind just as Ulquiorra grips Szayel’s hip, pulling the alpha toward him, twisting so that the gunshot whizzes over his shoulder. The burn is there, the heat of the air pressing against the side of his throat. The bullet embeds itself into the wall behind him, and he exhales softly.

_ I am sorry, Aizen-sama, _ he thinks.  _ But I do not believe my definition of normal is capable of accepting a preventable casualty. None of our pack should die in this place. _

“Ulquiorra?” Szayel’s voice is trembling, faint, but Ulquiorra only presses Szayel behind him and launches himself toward the woman stupid enough to let him see her.

“Outside. For your own safety.” Ulquiorra drops the woman, slips his hands carefully under Szayel’s arm, and hauls him back to his feet.  _ How much blood have you lost? _ “Your brother knows your scent and will protect you. Go now, Szayel, before you risk getting shot again.”

For one moment, those golden eyes flash as if Szayel wants to say something to him, but instead he bows his head and turns, hurrying down the entrance hall as fast as he can.

A broad back presses against Ulquiorra’s own, Grimmjow’s voice almost  _ purring _ in his ear. “Nice to see you care about us after all,” he says, and he smells  _ delicious _ beneath the blood and gristle, warm and heavy. “You smell like you’re having a damn good time, too.”

Ulquiorra tilts his head back, presses it between Grimmjow’s shoulder blades. “This is normal for a pack, is it not?” he asks, kicking at a hunter’s leg just to watch them fall.

“Hell yeah it is.” Grimmjow twists his head and Ulquiorra jumps at the roughness of a tongue on his neck. “Let’s clear this place the fuck out. There can’t be that many of ‘em left. Aizen was right when he said we should come out here at night.”

Humans are slow at night. Even hunters have difficulty adjusting to such a schedule. Night hunts are more successful, giving them a chance to pick off wolves who take to their wolf skin under the light of the moon and to hunt. Ulquiorra knows this. He remembers being chained down and listening to them complain about sleep disorders, about how their bodies refused to adopt a proper schedule. Most of them need to medicate their sleeping in order to remain asleep during the day, and it does not always work for them.

Ulquiorra knew all of this when he brought the information to Aizen in order to pick the right time to lead this charge. And now they reap the benefits, and he hopes in the back of his mind that Yylfordt is not upset to have his younger brother injured.

“You two having fun?” Yammy asks them, and the force with which he snaps a hunter’s neck makes Ulquiorra’s mouth feel dry and his skin itch. “Look like a kitten with a bowl of cream, Grimm. Maybe if you got off your ass and hunted once in a while—”

Grimmjow laughs, slashes open another hunter’s throat, spraying his own face with blood in the process. “I hope Nel’s gonna dick me down tonight ‘cause fuck I  _ need _ it after this.”

The corner of Ulquiorra’s mouth twitches and he dives beneath Grimmjow’s arm to catch a hunter unaware, enjoying the splitting of skin and the spilling of blood. He remembers all of those years spent with his group, being moved into this building, being chained and beaten and starved. Craving  _ anything _ , any affection, any touch that did not always have a hover of danger behind it. A hand that would touch him without choking him.

He had not been damaged all along, in such a respect. It was normal.  _ He _ could still be normal. And when he reels back, he can’t ignore the smile that stretches at his lips.

“That’s a hell of a sight,” Yammy says, and Ulquiorra looks at him. “Ain’t ever seen you smile like that. Let’s get this place cleaned out, man! Together!”

Nel swoops in to kiss Grimmjow, lapping up the blood on his mouth and laughing loudly as she combs her fingers through his hair. “I think we’re getting close to the end.”

“We are,” Ulquiorra confirms. “I have seen so many familiar faces tonight.”

Hazel eyes soften as Nel stretches out her hand, stroking it down the side of his face. “You’re a hell of a lot stronger than I ever thought, Ulquiorra. I’m so surprised.”

The four of them work as a single unit to dispatch hunters more quickly, the streams from the hallways thinning and dissipating as the bodies pile up. Hunters trip over the corpses of their fallen allies and Ulquiorra feels a thrill of relief when Aizen returns to the room, his white clothing stained with blood but looking unharmed otherwise. He had made it clear that Ulquiorra surviving tonight would mean that he could remain as Aizen’s guard if he chose to, but that Aizen did not want Ulquiorra guarding him. He wanted Ulquiorra to kill.

“If Aizen’s back, it’s almost over,” Yammy tells him, turning to look at him, and Ulquiorra nods his head before a shift of limbs catches his attention.

He never would have expected a hunter to hide beneath the corpses of his fallen allies.

The room is dark but the end of the gun is impossibly black in the shadows, the barrel pointed up, tipped toward Yammy’s scalp. Time seems to slow for one impossible moment and Ulquiorra feels a thrill of what he thinks, at first, is terror in his gut. It is only when that feeling explodes, a twisting hot iron, a miasma of pure hatred and rage, that he realizes he could be capable of such an explosive and destructive emotion.

_ Not him, _ he thinks, launching himself toward the hunter.  _ You will not take him from me. _

His wolf form flows like water across his skin, the momentum pushing him forward just far enough that he can sink his jaws into the hunter’s arm. The shot goes off, and for a moment, Ulquiorra believes he might have been too late. His eyes roll wildly in their sockets but he can see the smoke curling slowly from the ceiling above them. The shot went wild from the force of his bite, and relief floods his gut, soft and warm.

He only let’s go of the hunter’s arm long enough to go for the man’s face.

In the aftermath of the carnage, Aizen gathers everyone near to him so he can check their injuries and make sure none of them died. Tousen returns to his side from the shadows as if he was merely waiting for a signal, pressing his face against the side of Aizen’s throat, whispering something that makes Aizen giggle and lean into him a moment before Gin appears, throwing his arms around both of them. Ulquiorra watches them as he returns to his human form, picking fabric out of his mouth.

Yammy stares at him for a long, long moment before clearing his throat. “Ulquiorra. Thank you. I didn’t even fucking realize someone had a gun on me like that.”

“You do not need to thank me.” Ulquiorra blots his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt as he straightens his spine, tilting his head back to look up at Yammy.  _ Alive, he’s alive.  _ “These people took far too much from me. I did not wish for them to take more.”

“Hell of a fighter.” Yammy claps him on the shoulder, and Ulquiorra feels that odd sensation in his gut again, the odd thrum under his skin that he does not understand.

_ We have won, _ he thinks distantly.  _ There is all the time in the world to learn. _

He grips Yammy’s wrist, keeping it in place, and wonders about the difference in their heights. In the end, he steps onto two dead bodies piled on the floor to close the distance effectively enough, and he sees Yammy’s eyes widen minutely as Ulquiorra grips his shoulder in return to steady himself before he leans in with the intent to kiss him.

It is… Strange, and not unpleasant. Difficult, at first, because Ulquiorra does not know, and has never… Had the chance, has never wanted to try. Yammy freezes for just an instant and Ulquiorra makes to draw back, to apologize, and then the hand on his shoulder shifts to cup the nape of his neck, the back of his head, holding him in place. As first kisses go, it is bloody and uncertain and hesitant, but that is how Ulquiorra took his first steps into this new world. He is certain there is some merit to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the next chapter you guys get is gonna be porn and i've been excited to write these two banging for a while now
> 
> i'm really enjoying this series i think the most out of everything i've been writing so i think i'm going to be focusing on this for a while pretty intensively alongside the shinji/aizen omegaverse. so i'm going to run you guys through a few more ideas i've got for upcoming little one-shots and of course, the big one that comes next: the sternritter hunters.
> 
> but one-shot/short chaptered ideas are as follows:
> 
> szayel/aaroniero with a focus on szayel's "weird issues" that he has with himself  
> grimmjow and nelliel and halibel and how that came to be and how it still stands + grimm's pregnant now  
> aizen/gin/tousen. just. i want to touch on their true dynamic so BAD without all these allusions and questions  
> more with kyoraku and ukitake and kyoraku taking care of him in general  
> urahara/yoruichi. smut. just like. pure smut.  
> momo's little story and who she ends up with in this canon!  
> the absolutely fucking sinful thing i'm writing about kouga and muramasa which is basically what happens when two alphas collide in a physical sense


	5. Chapter 5

They wait. Considering the state of what is supposed to be their new home and the recovery period for the entire pack, they have to wait. Yammy would not have necessarily  _ chosen _ to wait but by the end of the week, having finished helping Gin haul out the dead bodies to burn well away from their new territory and scrubbing the blood off of the floors so the place no long smells like a death house, he’s glad to have waited. Ulquiorra needs as much time to think about this and to assure himself this is what he wants as he can get and the last thing Yammy wants is for him to regret this.

He is also in a state of recovery, which is important to remember.

Szayel takes over the medical rooms to be his own, snapping at Yylfordt for getting in his way as the older Granz had been absolutely unbearable since Szayel was shot. The wound was not serious and Szayel removed the bullet himself and had it in the process of healing by the time they had killed the last hunter, but Yylfordt was still riding out the tail end of his protective high, insisting on helping Szayel move things around to his liking.

They laid claim to bedrooms and Yammy was vastly unsurprised to hear Grimmjow’s yowls down the hallway not two hours after doing that. Nelliel and Halibel were both missing.

“Honestly,” Nnoitra mutters, shaking his head at the sounds. “Those three are fucking unbearable. The least he could have done was have the room scent locked.”

The high flush of color along Nnoitra’s cheekbones revealed it was getting to him more than usual. He was probably close to his own heat cycle. “Go take a nap, man.”

“Whatever.” Nnoitra dropped the chair he had been in the process of moving and headed down the hall, likely to his own bedroom. Yammy just sighs after him.

There is, as it turns out, something of a master bedroom and Aizen lays claim to it with Tousen and Gin, confirming that the three of them were  _ something _ even if no one knew that that something was supposed to be. Just the same, they celebrated having their own bedroom by not being able to be found for two straight days during which there were speculations made that were likely true. Yammy was certain the three of them were together even if no one had been able to physically spot Aizen’s mating mark.

Despite the plentiful stock of food the hunters kept around, that stopped none of them from going out to hunt, bringing back meat they could strip and preserve for when winter came, or otherwise cut up and freeze.  _ That _ was actually enjoyable and Yammy volunteered to keep leading their hunting party now that it more or less existed as a real, true group.

No one said it, but it was likely everyone was beginning to think about how they were operating like a true pack instead of a group of exiles with a score to settle.

It is after one such morning that Yammy returns with the others and finds Ulquiorra waiting for him in the large kitchen there, sitting in a chair with a book in front of him and eating slices of an apple. The moment Yammy steps into the room, Ulquiorra turns to look at him and the intensity in his gaze has Yammy pausing, the others complaining as they bump into his back walking into the room. He’s transfixed, nonetheless, by those green eyes, but the way Ulquiorra shuts his book without even marking his place.

“Hey.” The two of them hadn’t been able to speak too much since settling in because it took a lot of work and effort, and by the time they settled in to sleep, both of them were too exhausted. “You were still asleep when I headed out this morning.”

“Yes. I am aware.” Ulquiorra presses his lips together, sucks apple juice off of his finger.

They had been sharing a room. No one asked why. Yammy thinks none of them  _ need _ to ask why because most of them had been in the great room when Ulquiorra had quite literally climbed on top of two corpses to kiss him. So when it was time to choose rooms off of the crudely-drawn map Aaroniero had provided them, they just chose one. Together.

Yammy clears his throat roughly. “You get enough sleep? You came in pretty late.”

“Szayel requested assistance in moving some equipment around and the only way he could successfully do so without the interference of his brother was if he had help.” Ulquiorra finishes the last slice of his apple and stands, and the way the light shifts on his face clues Yammy in on something he missed. Ulquiorra is flushed. “But now, I need your assistance.”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed if it’s like that.” Yammy stretches a hand out toward his face, then stops himself. “What do you want my assistance with?”

“Not here.” Ulquiorra brushes past him, pausing at the doorway to look back at him. “Follow me and we will discuss this in private. They can gossip to their heart’s content later.”

Yammy follows behind him without another word, letting Ulquiorra lead him down the hallway to their bedroom. Yeah, maybe he should have noticed on his way out but sleeping with his nose pretty much stuck in Ulquiorra’s hair all night long really only ensures that he picks up on his scent all night long and he’d been half-asleep when he finally stumbled out of their room. Which, coincidentally, doesn’t look quite the same considering it appears Ulquiorra went a little crazy with the nesting. Has he ever done it before?

No. He would have been chilling outside with Aizen even before Yammy knew him, and he doubts the hunters cared when Ulquiorra went into heat. He doubts they would have given a shit or done anything to make him feel the least bit comfortable.

“Is this fine?” Ulquiorra asks him, gesturing toward the nest as Yammy shuts the door.

_ Is he asking me? _ “You know that’s for your comfort, right? Alphas don’t nest when we go into rut but if the omega we’re with wants it, we just let them build the nest.”

“I am aware. But just the same.” Ulquiorra frowns, brows drawn together as he yanks at the bottom of his shirt. “I asked Nnoitra for assistance because I haven’t done this before. Well, like this. It isn’t my first heat by any stretch of the imagination.”

Yammy wonders distantly how many of them he has actually had, considering starvation and stress can delay an omega’s heat or cause it to just never happen. They need to be taken care of and healthy before their bodies are ever ready to risk fertility especially considering how potent a healthy omega’s fertility typically is. And when they  _ did _ happen—

Ulquiorra clears his throat. “Typically I just stayed in a cage for the duration. They tried to breed me a few times, but nothing ever stuck. I suppose I was not healthy enough.”

They fucking  _ what? _ Yammy drags a hand down his face. “Fuck. Fuck fuck  _ fuck. _ ”

“Are you all right?” But Yammy pictures up the flare of alarm in Ulquiorra’s scent before he even looks at him and he  _ knows _ he needs to calm down right now no matter how pissed he is. An alpha’s scent is already something most omegas pick up on and respond to, but it gets so much actively worse when they’re in heat and more sensitive to it.

“I’m not mad at you. Just mad that you got treated that way.” And he’s never going to be again, not for the entire rest of his life. Yammy takes a deep breath and holds a hand out. “C’mere. I just wanna talk about this before we do anything about it.”

Ulquiorra takes his hand and Yammy draws him closer, up against his chest, smoothing his other hand down Ulquiorra’s back as he kisses the top of his head. The contact relaxes Ulquiorra immediately and yeah, he can smell the wisteria now. Ulquiorra sighs softly and closes his eyes, leaning in closer, pressing his cheek against Yammy’s chest as he lets himself be coddled. At least now he’s come to accept that contact is good and natural, and that he absolutely deserves to feel comfortable and happy in this space.

“I don’t want you to do this because you think you have to,” Yammy tells him, and Ulquiorra blinks up at him with hazy green eyes. “Or if you’d rather have one of the other alphas in here with you, or one of the other omegas? I’m sure Nnoitra would be game.”

Ulquiorra frowns up at him. “I don’t think I understand what you are saying right now.”

“Your heat’s supposed to be enjoyable. Well I mean I guess you’re gonna be horny and exhausted for a good part of it but the sex, at least.” And the aftercare, but that’s a hell of a lot harder to explain to someone who has never felt it before.

“I am aware of that much.” Ulquiorra takes a step back to look up at him more clearly. “Are you telling me that you are not interested in having sex with me, Yammy?”

_ Goddamn it. _ “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I think I’ve made it pretty clear I’d be game for that. I’m just saying that you don’t  _ have _ to have it be me if you don’t want it to be.”

“You are telling me that I can choose a different partner for my heat if I want to,” Ulquiorra says slowly, then scoffs when Yammy nods and squeezes his hand. “No. I don’t want a different partner. I thought I made that very clear already by inviting you in here. If there is anyone I can trust right now, then it would be you.”

That hits Yammy somewhere in the chest but he doesn’t think about that right now. “All right. I just wanted to make sure. I don’t want you thinking you have to do anything.”

“Shut up.” Ulquiorra yanks him by the wrist and pulls him down just enough to kiss him.

They’ve kissed since the first time, but Ulquiorra is more desperate and more certain now, and his scent only seems to intensify. Yammy catches him by the jaw, reminding himself to be careful because the last thing he wants to do is hurt Ulquiorra even by accident, even if Ulquiorra is an omega who likes pain with pleasure, because he’s suffered so much and putting him through more right now is not acceptable. So instead he kisses him, devours his mouth until he picks up on the soft, desperate noises pulling from Ulquiorra’s throat.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” Yammy asks him against his lips, smiling when Ulquiorra squeezes his eyes shut, his flush deepening. “Nah, don’t hide from me. I thought that the first time I ever saw you, that you were a damned beautiful wolf.”

Ulquiorra shivers and presses into his hand, fingers sliding up his chest to fist in the material of his shirt. “Why does hearing these words affect me so much?”

“It’s just a heat thing.” Yammy kisses him again and Ulquiorra keens softly against his lips, pulling at his shirt as he takes a step back. “You wanna go lay down now?”

“Yes.” Ulquiorra licks his lips and  _ fuck, _ he’s pretty, lips slick, eyes lidded. “Please.”

Yammy picks him up because he weighs nothing and carries him to their bed, lying him down in the nest and kneeling next to him. Within seconds, Ulquiorra is sitting up, wrestling his shirt up and off of him, and there are deeper flushes on his chest and back, staining his white skin a beautiful warm pink that Yammy traces with his fingers. Ulquiorra arches his back in answer, mouth opening a little around a low moan as he turns to look at Yammy. His eyes are soft, vulnerable, and Yammy kisses him because how can he not?

“Lay back and let me take care of you.” Yammy kisses him again, pressing him back against the futon, skimming a hand over his chest, his ribs—  _ fuck, _ his hand is large enough to cover the span of Ulquiorra’s ribs. “Let me show you how every alpha should be treating you.”

Ulquiorra exhales shakily and nods even as he reaches for Yammy, fingers curling in the front of his shirt once more. “Don’t stop touching me.”

As if Yammy could  _ ever _ stop under anything short of pain of death.

He kisses Ulquiorra as he runs his hand lower, over the soft skin of Ulquiorra’s belly, the softness there and the give and the muscle until his fingers brush over the waistband of his pants. Denim is too heavy for an omega in heat, too heavy and rough against sensitive skin and Yammy all but yanks them down, pretty sure he just ripped the button off in the process, but who cares? The way Ulquiorra whines softly against his mouth is worth it.

“I want. Off.” Ulquiorra yanks at his shirt again, and Yammy hears the fabric tear.

Instead of helping, he just lets Ulquiorra tear it off of him, chuckling softly as he tosses the ruined remains out of the nest. “That a boy. Show me what you want, Ulquiorra.”

“You’re. Very strong.” Ulquiorra swallows, hands smoothing over Yammy’s chest, which yeah, is pretty much all muscle, but he still grins at the appreciative way Ulquiorra moans when his fingers dig in just a little. “Are you going to mount me? Because I want this on me.”

The words go  _ straight _ to his dick, dangerously potent. “If that’s what you want, it’s yours. But I ain’t sticking anything in you until I’ve paid proper tribute to this body.”

Ulquiorra makes a small noise in the back of his throat but nods, letting his hands fall back against the pillows while Yammy skims his jeans off of his legs, taking his socks with them. There is nothing underneath and Ulquiorra bites his lip, flushing hot as he spreads his thighs wider in offering, his eyes fluttering shut. This much be so much for him, struggling to keep himself relaxed and open and ready even as he tenses against the unknown. Yammy will have him boneless with pleasure and exhausted by the end of the day.

For now, though, he settles between Ulquiorra’s legs, stroking a hand down his side, fitting his fingers in the curve of Ulquiorra’s waist. “You’re so damned pretty. How do you feel?”

“Exposed. Is there supposed to be so much talking? Nnoitra told me he can’t even think straight when he’s in heat.” Ulquiorra squirms toward his touch, panting softly up at him.

“Depends on the couple, I guess. I’m not gonna do anything without you telling me that you want it and that you’re enjoying it.” Yammy leans down, presses a kiss to Ulquiorra’s stomach and hears the soft intake of his breath. “Just like that. What do you want?”

“Sex.” Ulquiorra says that like Yammy should  _ know _ better.

He laughs softly against Ulquiorra’s skin, teasing the soft flesh with the tip of his tongue until Ulquiorra writhes under him. “That’s so straightforward. What kind of foreplay do you want? You want me to go down on you? I can smell you from here.”

The strangled noise Ulquiorra makes in the back of his throat is adorable. “Do whatever you want to do as long as it gets me closer to being under you.”

“You’re under me now, y’know.” Yammy shifts, slides his other hand up Ulquiorra’s leg to grip the soft flesh of his thigh, massaging it gently and listening to the way he whines, a petulant little sound. “I want to make sure you enjoy it, so you gotta be clear with me. Do you want my tongue on you? Because I’d pretty much just let you sit on my face.”

“You’d what?” Ulquiorra opens his eyes then, looks down at him. “What did you say?”

Yammy chuckles softly, sits up and away from him and Ulquiorra pouts immediately. “Do you wanna sit on my face? I’d let you. Get you off by eating you out over and over until you couldn’t see straight, and you’d be on top. You’d have the control.”

He watches Ulquiorra turn this around in his head and it’d be absolutely maddening if it was anyone else, but Ulquiorra looks so thoughtful before he nods. “That would be fine.”

It’s easy to help Ulquiorra sit up so he can take his place, stretched out in the nest so fragrant with flowers it’s almost distracting. Ulquiorra is so slight in comparison that he pretty much just picks him up when he helps him settle on top of him, really admiring the close-up view of those soft, soft thighs and the dark curls between his thighs hiding the soft blushing folds of his cunt. Ulquiorra presses his hands against the wall for balance, shifts his thighs a little wider apart, and it’s almost a tease because Yammy  _ wants  _ him but he can be patient, massaging Ulquiorra’s hips gently as he waits for him to settle.

“Okay.” Ulquiorra wets his lips and Yammy smiles up at him. “I’m fine. You can start.”

Yammy slides his hands around to grip Ulquiorra’s thighs, holding them open as he leans up to press a kiss where he’s soft and swollen and wet. Ulquiorra makes a small noise in the back of his throat, his thighs twitching in Yammy’s hold and yep, he’s definitely never had anyone do this before if he’s already reacting like this. But Yammy can be as gentle as he can forceful and he goes slow, trailing soft kisses along Ulquiorra’s slit, already tasting the wetness of his slick making his skin glisten in the low light of the room.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He strokes along the crease between Ulquiorra’s mound and his thigh with one thumb, following that with his tongue. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. I’m good.” Ulquiorra rolls his hips, a small little movement that feels more like an experiment than a certainty, but it’s also a demand. “It feels nice. Don’t stop.”

“Got it.” And Yammy leans up to lick up his slit, chuckling softly when Ulquiorra yelps.

He holds onto his thighs to keep him in place so he can properly eat him out, tracing his lips and tongue over Ulquiorra’s folds until he’s trembling faintly, making little noises down at him. But it’s when his tongue slides between Ulquiorra’s folds to tease at his clit that he gets a proper reaction, a soft little gasping sound of a noise followed by Ulquiorra rutting down against his face.  _ Perfect. _ Yammy answers that by licking him harder, tracing his tongue over that sensitive bud of flush until Ulquiorra moans, long and low for him.

“That’s what I wanna hear.” He teases him with just the tip of his tongue and Ulquiorra moans again, thighs spreading wider, sinking down further on Yammy’s face.

He’s so damned  _ pretty, _ all flushed and wet and soft and the position has his folds petaled open, letting Yammy lick up between them easily. His tongue drifts back to Ulquiorra’s entrance and he licks inside of him, chasing the sweet taste of his slick as he pulls Ulquiorra down even harder against his face. Like this he’s nearly grinding, nearly hurting, but it’s fine. It feels good, even, to let Ulquiorra take what he wants.

Yammy fucks him open with his tongue, licks up higher inside of him, shifts a hand so he can thumb over Ulquiorra’s clit just to listen to the high whiny noises that leave his throat. When he shifts again so he can sink a finger in properly, he’s startled even by how tight Ulquiorra is, how wet, how he  _ clenches _ and it’s gonna kill Yammy to have that around his cock but Ulquiorra needs it and he’d give him whatever he wanted.

It only takes a press up against that spot just inside of him with his tongue on Ulquiorra’s clit to make him come. His entire body seizes with it and he shakes violently, quaking in Yammy’s hands, moaning and quivering with his head thrown back. His body only seems to burn hotter so Yammy doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. Instead, he presses another finger inside, fucks Ulquiorra open with them and sucks his clit until he nearly screams.

‘You’re tight.” Yammy has to work to ease a third finger inside of him, feeling how his muscles ripple around his fingers in answer. “Gonna have to be real careful with you.”

Ulquiorra moans, rocks down on his fingers. “Please,” he murmurs. “Please, alpha.”

_ Shit. _ How the hell is Yammy supposed to be able to  _ think _ when he talks like that? “You don’t gotta beg. You can have whatever you want but God, don’t beg me. But you should let me lie you down so I can stretch you open. You wanted to be on your knees, right?”

“Yes.” Ulquiorra moves immediately then, making a discontent noise when Yammy’s fingers are no longer inside of him. “I don’t like that. I feel empty now.”

“You are in heat,” Yammy reminds him, and Ulquiorra huffs and throws a pillow at him.

Once Ulquiorra is situated on his hands and knees, Yammy moves behind him, pressing his fingers back inside and groaning at the heat, the stretch, the soft wet noises. Ulquiorra croons softly, rolls his hips back against them and  _ yeah, _ he’s enjoying himself now.

“You’re gonna have to hold still,” Yammy tells him, gripping one of his hips, squeezing gently. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself on accident. How does this feel?”

“Like not enough,” Ulquiorra says immediately, and Yammy can’t help his laughter.

He presses a kiss to the small of Ulquiorra’s back, rubs down and Ulquiorra keens softly for him once more. “Trust me to take care of you, baby. I’ll give you what you want.”

He refuses to go faster than he needs to, works Ulquiorra open slowly until some of the tension around his fingers eases and softens. If he goes too fast, Ulquiorra will suffer. There is no way around that. Even with his body wet and open because of his heat, he doesn’t have a lot of experience and Yammy isn’t exactly the smallest alpha in the world. He could hurt him. He could seriously injure Ulquiorra if he isn’t careful, even if being careful is not something that is always in his nature to be. So he kisses along Ulquiorra’s spine and fucks him open around his fingers until Ulquiorra shudders in orgasm again.

“There we go.” Only then does Yammy pull his fingers free once more, reaching for the fly of his jeans so he can get them off and get inside his omega.

Ulquiorra is patient, taking slow and deep breaths, his thighs slick and shiny down the sides while he waits. Yammy kisses the back of one thigh in praise before he presses up against him, lets Ulquiorra feel the weight of his body, the warmth of it, his cock pressed against Ulquiorra’s ass. One slight adjustment and he could be inside of him.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, and Ulquiorra presses back against him. “Words. You gotta tell me in words or I’m not gonna do anything.”

“Even though I know you are doing this for my benefit, it is infuriating.” Ulquiorra inhales slowly, exhales slowly. “Yes, Yammy, this is what I want. Fuck me just like this.”

He doesn’t want to move, but he has to so he can see what he’s doing because like hell is he just gonna fuck it up now that Ulquiorra is beneath him. One hand slips around his cock, slicking it with Ulquiorra’s wetness still thick on his fingers. He’s painfully hard but the promise of Ulquiorra wrapped like velvet heat around him is real now so he pays it no mind, bracing a hand on Ulquiorra’s hip to hold him still. The last thing he wants is for Ulquiorra to physically react and risk hurting either of them. Pure please, no pain. It’s the least he can do when Ulquiorra is willing to trust him like this.

The head slipping in alone draws a small, breathless sound out of Ulquiorra’s throat, his head falling back as his body goes still. Yammy hushes him, squeezes his hip and waits for him to relax. He already feels like heaven just inside, slick and hot and perfect.

“It’s… A lot,” Ulquiorra admits, and Yammy hums softly. “Don’t stop, though. Don’t.”

“You sure?” Yammy asks him, thumbing over a spot on his lower back gently.

Ulquiorra looks at him down the length of his back, and his eyes are hazy and lidded, his lips bitten bruised cherry red. “Yes,” he says, and his voice, naturally deep, comes out lower. “Trust me to know what I want. You can trust me with that much.”

Yammy nods and goes slow, easing in centimeter by centimeter, holding Ulquiorra still for him, easing into the tight and yet welcome clench of his body. He’s perfect just like this, gasping softly, rippling around him. He’s so warm inside and Yammy swears he can feel the beat of his heart just like this in how tight he is, how much it takes to open him up. Every small movement draws a small little mewling noise from Ulquiorra’s lips and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing to him until Ulquiorra clenches tight, gushes around him.

_ Fuck, Ulquiorra. _ “You came just from that?” he asks, slightly breathless himself.

“Yes.” Ulquiorra’s hands white knuckle the sheets beneath him, and his voice sounds blown. “If you don’t fuck me then I’m going to do it myself. Right now.”

Yammy laughs, kisses him between the shoulder blades before he presses his chest down against Ulquiorra’s back. “I got you, baby. Hold on tight and I’ll get you there.”

Ulquiorra is small and warm beneath him and he presses back against Yammy, rocks his hips back and makes a small stuttered sound in the back of his throat. The fact he can move at all is impressive; most omegas would have been down for the count after so many orgasms but Ulquiorra only challenges him further, and Yammy can’t help but hide a smile against the side of his neck.  _ Tough bastard, huh? That’s what I like about you. _

Every movement drags him against Ulquiorra inside. He’s too tight, too sensitive but he doesn’t flinch away from it, groaning helplessly loud, hands fisting in the bedding, trembling against Yammy’s chest but refusing to back down. His skin is hot and sweaty and Yammy licks a trail of it off the side of his neck, over his scent gland. He’s bathed in wisteria for this effort and Ulquiorra twists his head around, demanding a kiss.

It doesn’t take much. How could it? Ulquiorra is already gone and Yammy doesn’t have to touch him to make him come again, but he does wrap a hand around Ulquiorra’s waist, holding him in place, holding their bodies together. Knotting him almost feels painful, stretches him wider than he’s been stretched before but Ulquiorra mewls and rocks his hips back, making sure their bodies are as tight together as they can be.

“Let me lay us down,” Yammy tells him, and Ulquiorra only makes a quiet noise before he nods, his head dropping, long hair trailing against the futon beneath them.

He has to be careful but he’s strong enough to manage Ulquiorra’s weight, lying with their bodies pressed close together. Ulquiorra claws at the arm around him so Yammy lets him keep it, nosing the back of his neck, until Ulquiorra hums softly to him.

“How do you feel?” Yammy asks him, petting a hand down his side. “I know it was a lot.”

Ulquiorra clears his throat a little, tilts his head slightly so he can look back at Yammy. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to move for the rest of the day.”

“I can do all the work if you need me to. Feel good, though?” When Ulquiorra nods, Yammy grins, curls his hand around Ulquiorra’s hip. “Good. S’what you deserved.”

“I told you that I had made the correct decision.” Ulquiorra drags a pillow closer for his head, curling his arm around it, stifling a yawn against the crook of his elbow. “I told you that I had chosen an alpha who would take care of me in this state, and it seems I was right, doesn’t it? Now be quiet. I need to rest before we go again.”

Yammy laughs and nods, rests his chin on top of Ulquiorra’s head and just breathes in the scent of warm, content omega. It’s worth it to have had to literally fight to get this far and for all of his strange quirks even now, this is something Yammy can deal with and get behind. The way Ulquiorra lies warm and content in his arms, the way Ulquiorra trusts him, the way Ulquiorra isn’t afraid to be vulnerable with him, to ask him for his help.

This is definitely how he helps Ulquiorra get back his version of normal, right?

When Ulquiorra wakes back up, Yammy lets him go wash up while he gets them food and by the time they finish eating, Ulquiorra is on top of him, demanding more. He’s happy to give it to him, chasing those pleasured noises from Ulquiorra’s lips, watching him arch and writhe and demand more, always happy to give it to him. He’d have it no other way.

And when Ulquiorra twists his head to the side and  _ demands _ it, Yammy gives it to him, a kiss before a sink of teeth into skin, the copper tang of blood and Ulquiorra’s wordless shout as it pushes him over the edge one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //through megaphone// I LOVE THEM

**Author's Note:**

> i was trying to make this a one-shot but alas, that is not going to happen. that being said, this one is at least going to be shorter than nnoites. perhaps it's not a pairing many people care about, but yamulqui was always really interesting to me given the strange nature of their relationship and how much yammy seems to like him.
> 
> side note i'd like you guys to comment on: do you want me to start filing this series into chronological order?


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